


On The Trail

by LittleSnow



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Annoyed Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Attempt at Humor, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Attempted Sexual Assault, Destiny, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fights, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Law of Surprise, Monsters, Possessive Sex, Protective Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Protectiveness, Romance, Scars, Swordfighting, Violence, jaskier being jaskier, what plot?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-09
Updated: 2020-07-12
Packaged: 2021-02-27 15:55:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,081
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22189756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleSnow/pseuds/LittleSnow
Summary: After searching The Continent for the girl in his dreams, Geralt finally finds her.Now, he has to show her, one way or another, that destiny brought them together, that she belongs with him.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 42
Kudos: 261





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I might add more chapters in the future. Enjoy!

The soles of her boots were so damaged that every step was making her jaw clench in pain. The men were close behind, she could hear the rustling in the bushes, twigs snapping under the weight of their heavy shoes, but she couldn’t run anymore. She could only delay the inevitable. _She shouldn't have left_. Maybe the witcher couldn't be trusted but he had kept her fed and warm for a day. All she had now, was a group of men from Nilfgaard on her tail, already discussing who would have her first. Thorn bushes ripped the hem of her dress and she was forced to slow down.

“Come on, boys! We’ve given her a fair chance, get her—now!”

She grunted in pain as a hand came and yanked her hair back. Her scalp burned painfully and she let out a desperate scream. She scratched and kicked at anything touching her but they were already on her, pushing her down. One large hand was under her breasts, pinning her to the ground, and someone clutched the hem of her dress, tugging it up. She felt another warm, sweaty hand squeeze her thigh and the sudden contact was like an electric shock.

When they least expected it, she pulled out the small knife she had hidden in her belt and stabbed the wrist holding her down. There was a loud yell and, for a moment, she could breathe freely again.

“Whore!”

She scrambled to her feet before a hard kick in the head made her stumble forward, leaning against a tree. The pain spread across her face and she frowned, feeling the warm blood trickling down her forehead. Her ears were ringing painfully and she pushed herself away from the tree, only to collide against something hard. Two hands closed firmly around her shoulders, keeping her from losing her balance and she lifted her head in confusion. She saw the bright hair, the pupils shrunk to slits, the chiseled jawline _. It was him again_. He pushed her gently aside.

“Excuse me, darling.”

His cold and threatening gaze matched the tone of his voice and his presence filled her with relief.

She closed her eyes and heard the swish of a sword carving through the air, the sound of metal tearing through flesh. And the silence settled again. Her eyelids fluttered and she leaned weakly against the tree.

“I'm sorry I wasn't fast enough,” the deep voice resonated behind her.

Geralt approached her, sheathing his sword with a metallic sound and his gloved hand reached up, wiping a drop of blood near her hairline. She blinked a few times and looked around her, the strong metallic smell of blood filling her nostrils. The side of her face was swelling rapidly and she could feel tears pricking her eyes. He pinched her chin and tilted her head to the side, jaw clenching at the sight of her face. 

“I shouldn't have left without saying anything,” she said quietly.

“You shouldn't be alone. I told you.”

His voice was low and raspy and seemed to resonate in her own chest. Comforting. _Safe_.

She forced herself to snap out of it—whatever she was feeling wasn't real, it couldn't be. Taking a deep breath, she brushed the dead leaves off her dress and swallowed hard.

“I should go,” she blurted out.

_She didn't mean it_. Where would she go anyway? She wanted to stay with him.

“I'm afraid I can't let that happen,” he said calmly, extending a hand to her.

“You won't even give me a choice, witcher?”

He let out a short breath.

“Call me Geralt and _no_.” He leaned closer, making sure she was listening. “I _won't_.”

She lifted her head defiantly, but her hesitant gaze was betraying her, searching his features for any signs of hostility. His expression turned stern as he stepped forward and took her hand.

“I don't want to hurt you.”

_She believed that_.

“I can keep you safe,” he continued without blinking. “So let me.”

That was all she wanted to hear, but every man in her life had either betrayed or abandoned her, it was pathetic to hope a stranger would be any different. They weren't _really_ bound by destiny like he had been claiming.

Her head spun and she swayed, clutching his arm to maintain her balance. He immediately scooped her off the floor, as if she weighed nothing and, as soon as her head rested against his cold armor, all her doubts vanished. She stared at the silver medallion hanging just in front of her eyes, breathing in his masculine scent and she knew she didn't want him to ever let her go.

After placing her on his horse, he settled behind her and grabbed the reins as she threw a last glance over her shoulder. The dead men were lying in their own blood, gutted like animals, some of them with their pants still down their ankles.

Geralt clicked his tongue once and she unconsciously leaned back in the saddle, brushing against his tall frame. The pain in her head settled and she closed her eyes, fingers tightening around the horse’s mane.

“Rest.”

Still holding the reins, he pushed his arm against her, forcing her to relax into his chest.

***

When she woke up, she was welcomed with a warm crackling fire and a thick blanket thrown over her legs.

Immobile, Geralt was sitting on a fallen tree, staring into the flames, his sword lay across his lap. He had taken his armor off and was only wearing a thin white shirt, sleeves rolled just below the elbows. She let her gaze wander over his white hair, his broad shoulders and the scars on his arms.

His head barely moved as he gave her a sidelong glance and she sat up, pulling her knees up to her chest. He looked back at the fire before finally speaking.

“Eat.”

She glanced hesitantly at the plate in front of her and shook her head.

“I'm fine.”

“You're hungry.” He pushed the plate toward her with the tip of his sword. “Eat,” he repeated louder.

She was too weak to argue—and she _was_ starving—so she hastily picked up the plate. A hint of a smile tugged at Geralt's lips and he started wiping his sword clean with an old cloth. As she was chewing the cold meat, her gaze kept drifting sideways, following the slow movement of his hand.

_She had never met a man like him_. The only men she knew, the bastards from her village, only cared about gold, ales, and women. But there was something fascinating about him, something familiar that she couldn't explain.

“Is it true what they say about witchers?”

He stopped for a second, folding the cloth in half as she continued.

“That you don't… _feel_ anything?”

He chuckled slightly.

“It _is_ a popular belief.” He shook his head, sheathing his sword. “But it's also a myth.”

She nodded, somewhat relieved.

“Come here,” he added, inviting her to sit in front of him.

She tightened the blanket around her and crawled to sit in between his parted legs, evading his eyes. He took her wrist and laid the flat of her hand under his shirt, on his bare chest. She felt the warmth of his skin spreading through her fingers as he exhaled deeply. She ran two fingers along a scar and pressed her hand harder against him.

“I can't feel your heartbeat,” she whispered after a few seconds.

He grunted, a corner of his lip twitching, before glancing down at her.

“It's too slow for you to feel it. But it's there.”

He turned her around, pulling her body against his and her reluctance dissipated like a cloud of smoke. She was finally in his arms—just like she had been in his dreams—and it felt right.

Of course, the guilt was still lingering in his mind as he looked down at her bruised skin. He could have killed those men before she even noticed their presence—they had made their intentions perfectly clear—but he didn't. Instead, he had chosen to follow them at a distance, waiting for them to try their luck. He wanted to see the relief in her eyes, knowing he was there to protect her. He wanted her to seek comfort in his arms... He just wanted her to _trust_ him _._ Of course, she wasn't supposed to get hurt. _That mistake was on him._

The stars emerged from behind the dark clouds and he sighed peacefully, a hand stroking her hair… until a shriek echoed in the distance and his hand froze. She tensed in his arms, heart pounding.

“What was that?” she whispered nervously.

“Hopefully, nothing,” he reassured her.

But it was approaching. Another chilling shriek echoed around the forest—closer—and Geralt could already smell the creature. He sighed and untangled his hand from her hair to grip his sword.

“ _Fuck_.”


	2. Chapter 2

The ground became softer and Geralt's boots sank into the mud with a squelching sound. Beads of sweat were pearling on his forehead as he inhaled deeply but the scent was fading—or rather, another one was distracting him. _Lavender_. He slowly lowered the sword, a deep sigh deflating his chest. 

“What did I say?”

He had tried to get rid of the impatient edge in his voice but failed. He blinked slowly, letting out another sigh.

“Come out,” he said again, more calmly.

She stepped slowly out of the bushes and he clenched his jaw to stop from smiling when he saw her face, one hand clutching the hem of her dress. She cleared her throat and took a hesitant step forward, avoiding his gaze.

“I thought I could hide,” she explained quickly. “In case you needed help.”

He ignored the first reply that crossed his mind and nodded once.

“I appreciate your concern, but if you want to help, do what I say.”

Finally, she looked at him, at his eyes—completely black—and he saw a familiar expression cross her face. _Fear_. She flinched and took a step back but he wished she hadn't. 

A noise came from the distance—he knew she couldn't hear it—and he jerked his head toward the forest.

“It's time.”

She looked behind him nervously, the sound of her heartbeat resonating in his ears, but she didn't move.

“And I can help,” she insisted.

He appreciated her courage but he needed her to leave and she seemed rather perseverant.

“I've killed a—”

_This was enough._ Interrupting her mid-sentence, he grabbed her wrist and leaned closer to her.

“And you can tell me all about it later, but you can't help me kill this monster.” He realized how tightly he was holding her wrist and he let go of it, his voice turning into a growl. “Now go back to Roach and wait for me.”

He didn't want to scare her but she had to leave immediately. He could talk to her later. 

She swallowed a retort and nodded quietly. As much as she wanted to help, she knew she couldn't fight. _And even though she trusted him not to hurt her, there was always a part of him that was… intimidating._ _More intimidating than any other man_. She strode back to where she came from and grabbed the horse's reins, pulling him forward.

“Seems like we're going to keep each other company again.” She patted his neck with a smile.

After reaching the spot where he had instructed her to wait, she hitched Roach to a nearby tree. She grabbed the two empty bottles and walked down to the river below. She could at least do something, even if it was only fetching water and picking up herbs.

As soon as she reached the river, she crouched to fill the bottle, gazing absently at her reflection in the water. Hopefully, they would stop in a village soon—she was craving a warm bath and a comfortable bed. She stood up and slowly walked back, trying to list the names of the closest villages and cities in her head.

When she arrived on top of the hill, she froze, heart beating faster. _She wasn't alone_. A man was standing next to Geralt's horse, searching the saddlebag. 

Without hesitation, she grabbed the first thing she found—a thick dead branch lying on the grass—and stood straight, clearing her throat silently.

“Who are you?”

The man winced slightly and turned around, a look of surprise on his face.

“Oh, _hello_.”

He was fairly young, bright eyes, dressed in fancy clothes. She saw the knife—one of Geralt's—in his hand and unconsciously held her breath.

“Put the knife back,” she warned him. “And walk away from my horse.”

“Oh, no, don't worry about the knife. I just have a, _uh_ , rather annoying stone stuck under my boot.” He smiled. “But, uh… did you say _your_ horse?”

A look of confusion passed across the man's face and he narrowed his eyes, glancing at the horse over his shoulder and back at her.

“Well, I'm sure you can do that without the knife,” she retorted.

“Of course, uh…” he paused, gaze flickering around him hesitantly. “But about the horse, I…” He shook his head with a grimace. “I know it's not yours.”

She tightened her grip around the branch and took a step forward. Her hands were slightly shaking and she hoped she didn't look as nervous as she was. Her attempt at being threatening was ridiculous but that's all she could come up with. The last time she had been attacked, Geralt had been there to save her, thankfully. _But it could happen again_.

“If you don't put the knife back and walk away, I'll hit you.”

He raised his eyebrows, mouth slightly opened and came closer to her.

“Well, I can assure you, it won't be necessary. I'm only looking for my friend.”

He held his hands in front of him, but the sudden movement made her flinch and she instinctively swung the branch. He didn't have time to dodge it and the branch hit the side of his head. She let out a gasp and he fell on the floor with a pained grunt. She dropped the dead branch and pulled him across the floor, hands under his armpits. _She only meant to scare him, not to knock him out_. After sitting him up, she tied him up to the trunk of the tree with a strong rope.

She would wait for Geralt to come back. He had told her not to trust anyone. _So she wouldn't._

A few seconds later, the man grunted again and when he tried to move, his eyes widened in confusion. He looked up at her and started speaking, words tumbling out of his mouth.

“This isn't necessary, _really_. It's just a misunderstanding, I didn't mean to scare you. I'm sure we can talk this through. I'm just looking for my friend, my best friend, in fact.”

“What's his name?”

“Geralt of Rivia. The _witcher_ ,” he added, blinking rapidly. “White hair, _quite_ tall, always serious.”

A flash of doubt passed across her mind and she crouched in front of him.

“He's never mentioned a friend before.” She looked at the forest behind them. “If you're his _best_ friend, how come I've never heard of you?”

He grimaced and shrugged his shoulders.

“Well, I'm _almost_ offended but if you know Geralt as much as I do, you know that—” he starts whispering as if someone could hear them. “—you know that he's more the silent, brooding type. Opening up isn't really his thing. I'm Jaskier, by the way. At your service.”

“Jaskier,” she repeated in a whisper but the name didn't ring any bell.

"I would shake your hand, but—" He tried to move his shoulders with a grimace. "I'm a little tied up."

She looked at him again—she had the gut feeling that he was telling the truth. But, whatever guilt she was feeling for hitting him and tying him up to a tree, she had to push it aside.

“I'm sure he'll be able to confirm your story when he comes back. He shouldn't be long now.”

“And _where_ is he exactly?” Jaskier asked, giving her a questioning look. “Let me guess, fighting another monster?”

She nodded again, slipping the knife into her dress pocket. Hopefully, Geralt would be back before nightfall.

She decided to start gathering wood on the edge of the forest before it got dark, but she made sure not to leave the stranger out of her sight. His head lolled back against the tree and he started humming absently while she dropped the pile of branches on the floor. 

“The horse,” he suddenly spoke again. “What's his name?”

She turned to him.

“Excuse me?”

He tried to shift into a more comfortable position and nodded toward the horse.

“For all I know, _you_ could be a thief,” he said, eyebrows raised. “You appeared out of nowhere, claiming it was your horse. So what's his name?”

She dropped another pile of branches with a nod.

“His name is Roach. And I wouldn't be here if I had just stolen his horse.”

“Hmm,” he admitted with a pout. “Does Geralt let you ride him?” He scrunched up his nose before reformulating the question. “—let you ride the _horse_ , more precisely.” 

She suppressed a smile and picked up one of the water bottles.

“He does.” 

Jaskier let out a quiet sigh.

“Well, _now_ I'm offended.”

She sat opposite him and offered him some water that she poured slowly between his dry lips.

“You haven't told me your name,” he continued.

She closed the bottle with a half-smile. She wasn't much of a talker—neither was Geralt—and she definitely wasn't used to someone asking her so many questions.

“Bry.”

“Bry,” he repeated, gaze drifting into space. “As in..?”

“Bryonia.”

“Like the plant?”

“Like the plant,” she confirmed with a grimace. “My mother wasn't very inspired, so I've heard.”

He let out a quiet chuckle at the comment. 

“Well, we actually have one thing in comm—”

He was cut off by a terrifying and loud growl echoing around the forest. A flock of birds flew off in the distance and they exchanged a look.

“I believe, the beast has been slain,” Jaskier commented theatrically.

She didn't say anything but waited patiently, staring into the forest. 

The sun was just above the horizon, yellow and pink spreading through the clouds, and the wind had almost completely stopped. Eyes partly closed, Jaskier was quietly humming to himself, head resting against the rough bark while she gazed absently at the floor.

There was a rustling in the woods and, after a few seconds, Geralt appeared, armor splashed with dark blood. She quickly got to her feet, glancing at his supposed friend tied up to the tree. Geralt looked at her with a nod but, before he said anything, his gaze inevitably drifted to the tree she was standing next to. His face didn't show any emotion but he stepped closer, his sword still unsheathed.

“Jaskier?”

The young man's head snapped up before lolling against the tree with relief.

“Oh, _Geralt_ ! I am _thrilled_ to see you. There's been a little... confusion here.”

Geralt crouched and looked up at her without a word. 

“I am so sorry,” she immediately apologized. “I didn't know if he was telling the truth. You told me not to trust anybody, even if they know your name…”

“You owe no apology,” he said calmly.

“Well—” Jaskier started.

“None.”

Geralt clenched his jaw but a glint of amusement flashed in his eyes and he gripped the rope, tugging it roughly.

“Was this your idea?”

Jaskier gave him an over-exaggerated smile.

“No, she hit me with a branch and tied me up to the tree. _Yes_ , Geralt, she took me by surprise, _ah_ , _ah_ , laugh all you want. Now can you _please_ untie me before my arms fall off?”

A low, deep chuckle rumbled in Geralt's chest and he cut the rope in one swift move.

“What's next, a little girl robbing you of all your coin?”

Jaskier pushed the rope off him with a relieved sigh and rubbed his arms with a grimace.

“This shall not happen… _again_.”

Geralt stood back up, putting his knife away.

“That should give you some inspiration for a song.”

“I'd rather not, but thank you for the suggestion, Geralt. Will you excuse me for a minute?”

Jaskier held up one finger before suddenly running off and disappearing between a large rock. He reappeared a few seconds later, a lute in his hand, arms stretched out.

“Better!”

She scrunched up her face. “How did he…?”

Geralt sighed and grabbed the horse's reins.

“Don't ask,” he grunted before gesturing for her to go ahead.

They walked for a few minutes until they found a good spot to set up camp and she approached Jaskier.

“I'm sorry for hitting you.”

He smiled with a wave of his hand, dropping his bag down on the floor.

“No harm done." He felt the back of his head with a grimace. “Well, _some_ harm done, but I'll be fine.”

“Will you?” Geralt retorted instantly, crouching in front of the stack of branches.

“It seems you've acquired quite the sense of humor on your travels,” Jaskier noted loudly while approaching him.

Geralt reached inside the bag and pulled out the carcass of a large rabbit. “And you still haven't told me what you want.”

“Nothing, I'm just... visiting an old friend.”

With a grunt, Geralt planted the knife in the rabbit and cut across its neck. “How did you find me?”

Jaskier shrugged his shoulders and leaned nonchalantly against a tree.

“Pure luck. I was, just, you know… _around_. Trying to find my muse.”

Geralt pulled the skin off the rabbit and Jaskier flinched at the sudden noise.

“Ok, fine,” he continued, dropping to the floor, resting his back against the tree. “I got myself in a bit of a pickle, I'm afraid. I need your help.”

Geralt wiped his blood-covered hands on a cloth with an impatient sigh. 

“What did you do?”

***

And soon enough, the sun went down. The crickets started chirping and the crackling fire was casting dancing shadows across the dark trees. She put her plate down and wrapped her blanket around her, staring into the flames.

“So what's the story here?” Jaskier asked, breaking the silence once again. “How did you two meet, hmm?”

He stared at Geralt with a hopeful smile but after seeing his closed expression, he sighed and looked at her instead.

“Oh, uh…” she stuttered, glancing sideways at Geralt who seemed determined to ignore the question. “He saved me,” she answered as vaguely as possible.

Jaskier's eyes lit up and he nodded enthusiastically.

“Do tell,” he encouraged her.

Geralt breathed out roughly and handed her a chunk of bread. “If you ignore him long enough, he'll shut up.”

“Geralt! Let the girl talk. Or, even better, _you_ tell m—”

“No,” he interrupted him, emptying the rest of his cup on the floor.

“I _need_ inspiration,” Jaskier protested with a grimace. “This is a great story, I can feel it already.”

He picked up the lute sitting next to him and stared into space for a few seconds before singing.

_No rest for the White Wolf_

_When across the pond_

“Just give me a minute,” he pauses, mumbling a few words under his breath. “Oh.”

_He hears the despair of_

_A pretty vagabond_

“What?” he stopped singing again, crunching up his nose when he saw her frown. “I said _pretty_.”

He squinted his eyes, gaze flickering across her face. He turned his head toward Geralt, keeping his gaze on her.

“She's going to hit me again, isn't she, Geralt?”

“Hopefully,” he replied dryly. “Or I will.”

She chuckled and shook her head, brushing the crumbs off her lap.

“It's alright. A vagabond isn't the worst thing to be called.”

Jaskier nodded rapidly, pointing at her.

“See, that's the spirit!”

She rested her head on her bag, quietly enjoying the warmth emanating from the fire. The sound of the wood crackling and popping, the crickets, Jaskier singing… everything seemed to all blend together as her eyes slowly closed.

Sitting by the fire, Geralt was inspecting the herbs she had picked and Jaskier kept glancing down at her. He stopped singing, strumming a few chords tentatively, staring at her sleeping form.

“Bryonia...Bry…” he whispered, leaning forward. “Are you pretending to sleep?”

“What are you doing?” Geralt snapped, glaring at him.

“Right, she's asleep,” Jaskier said, putting his lute down. “Just making sure. Now tell me the whole story, friend.”

Geralt returned his attention to the bunch of herbs. “No.”

“ _Yes_.” He folded his hands in his lap with a wide smile. “And _don't_ spare me any details.”

“ _No_.”

“Fine.” Jaskier picks the lute back up, feigning indifference. “Then I'll keep singing until you're ready.”

Geralt's face showed no reaction as he snapped the plants in half.

“Is that your plan? Bore me to death?”

Jaskier pursed his lip with a bitter chuckle.

“You're not exactly the most entertaining person in the world, _witcher_. But if my singing is so _boring_ , maybe you could just tell me where you found the sweet girl?”

Geralt grunted, throwing the herbs in a bowl. “I've seen parasites less tenacious than you.”

Pretending not to listen, Jaskier started playing a few chords, humming along with them. Geralt dropped the bowl on the floor with a heavy sigh and finally made eye contact with him.

“I'll tell you if you stop talking.”

“Yes,” Jaskier immediately said with a triumphant smile.

“For a whole day.”

“A whol—Yes! _Deal_.”

And so Geralt told him.

_The dreams, the search, the first time he saw her…_

Jaskier was drinking in every word, his excitement barely contained, eyes growing large.

“You love her. The famous Geralt of Rivia _does_ have feelings!”

Geralt threw him an annoyed glance.

“I've known her for a week, Jaskier.”

“And you only need a second to fall in lov—”

“I'm not in love,” Geralt interrupted him with a sigh. “I _care_ about her. What do _you_ know about love anyway?”

Jaskier didn't acknowledge his mocking tone and shrugged his shoulders.

“More than you do, evidently.”

He sighed and looked around him.

“What are you making?” he continued.

He received no answer and cleared his throat loudly before speaking again.

“You're making one of those secret potions, aren't you? What is this one for?”

He picked up one of the plants, sniffing it hesitantly. Geralt pointed his knife at him with a grunt.

“One more word and I'll include your tongue in the recipe.”

Remembering their deal, Jaskier grimaced and dropped the plant, mouthing the word ‘sorry’. 

Another branch popped and sent tiny sparks flying into the night air. The dying flames soon turned to glowing embers and the smoke dissipated.

Bryonia stirred awake, feeling the weight of a heavy cape over her blanket. The fire had died out so she sat up and waited for her eyes to adjust to the dark. Jaskier was fast asleep, snoring quietly, a few feet away from her. Geralt was sitting against a tree, back straight, a peaceful expression on his face. _He was handsome_. Just as the thought crossed her mind, he opened his eyes and looked straight at her. She felt her cheeks flush with embarrassment and quickly looked away.

“Can't sleep?” he asked, resting an elbow on his knee.

She shook her head and pushed the blanket off of her. He lifted his head to the night sky for a moment as if he was considering something. 

“Come with me,” he abruptly said, picking up his sword.

She got up quietly, careful not to wake up Jaskier, and followed him through the forest, his cape wrapped around her.

“I'm sorry about earlier,” she started, keeping her eyes focused on the uneven ground. “You fight monsters all the time and I can barely hold a sword. I just… wanted to help. I don't want to become a burden,” she explained.

“Protecting you isn't a burden.”

“But I was thinking,” she continued, glancing nervously at him. “As you're _obviously_ very skilled, maybe… you could train me.”

“ _Train_ you?” He raised an eyebrow.

“So I can at least defend myself. _Please_?”

Geralt sighed and his gaze returned forward.

“I guess it wouldn't hurt to teach you a few things,” he finally admitted. “We’ll travel through a town tomorrow. We can stop there and find you a weapon.”

She bit her bottom lip, trying to contain her excitement, and they walked for another few minutes until he stopped. He took her hand—it was too dark for her to see anything in front of her—and pulled her through bushes, keeping the thorns away with his arm until they stepped on something hard. _Stone_.

She lifted her eyes and the view took her breath away. _They were in a cave. The most beautiful cave she had ever seen._

Above her head, the cave roof looked like the night sky, twinkling and flickering. Thousands of tiny fireflies were covering the rock, glowing in the darkness.

Mouth slightly open, she smiled and unconsciously squeezed his hand. 

“It's beautiful,” she whispered.

He led her deeper into the cave, where the green glow was mirrored on the surface of a small lake. She dipped a few fingers in the water.

“It's warm.” She smiled and looked up at Geralt.

He had kept his gaze fixed on her the whole time, watching her reaction as she held tightly onto his hand. Pulling her closer to him with a quiet grunt, he nodded imperceptibly toward the water. 

“Shall we?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Stay safe ❤


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was planning on updating this fic a while ago but, as you know, life is a bit crazy at the moment and it's been hard finding time and energy to write... I hope you're all doing good though and please stay safe! Much love ❤

Her dress dropped to the floor, pooling at her feet and goosebumps covered her entire body. She quickly stepped into the water, careful not to slip on the smooth stones, and Geralt politely kept his gaze forward until her bare chest had disappeared under the water.

He held out his hand to steady her and gently pulled her closer to him, his thumb stroking her skin. He was only holding her hand, but standing completely naked in front of a man felt more intimate than anything she had ever experienced. She wasn't a virgin anymore—unfortunately—but it had never been more than a pair of pants pulled down and the dead weight of a man crushing her breasts, whispering obscenities in her ear. 

_This felt right_. She looked at his fingers entwined with hers, surprised how such a simple touch could make her feel things she had never felt before.

As if he could read her mind, he ran his fingers through her hair and pulled her against him. She took a deep breath and relaxed, her cheek rubbing against the thin scars covering his chest.

“You've never told me your age,” she said quietly.

She had heard so many rumors about witchers that she didn't know if any of them were true. His chest rose slightly and she felt a quiet chuckle rumbling in his chest, followed by a sigh.

“If age matters, then I'm too old for you.”

She lifted her head with a smile.

“I wouldn't care even if you were a hundred years old.”

His eyes lingered on her face and one corner of his mouth slowly curled up.

“I'm glad you said that.”

His hand stroked her cheek, palm trailing down her neck and when she felt like her skin was about to melt, his hand closed gently around her throat and he pulled her closer into a long, deep kiss.

Her breasts were pressed against him, nipples hardening, his cold medallion brushing her skin. She felt an unfamiliar heat building up in the pit of her stomach, descending all the way down to her thighs and she held back the moan threatening to slip past her lips. He grunted into the kiss, a firm, possessive hand at the back of her head and she felt him stiffening against her belly.

Pulling away from the kiss, he looked down at her with slightly furrowed brows and his eyes seemed to glow in the dimness of the cave.

“I didn't bring you here for this.” His voice was rough, full of an intensity he was trying to contain. "I wanted to show you something _beautiful_ , not just—" He paused with a sigh. “Not just monsters and blood.”

She nodded, glancing at the glowing water rippling around them, searching for something meaningful to say.

“Thank you, Geralt,” she finally whispered.

Nothing else needed to be said. She knew it was only a matter of time before they had to leave, but she wanted more. _And so did he, she could feel it._ The increased pressure, the low grunt that rattled in his chest and his growing erection trapped between their bodies. But he pulled away and she let out a sigh of disappointment. The muscles in his jaw clenched and he dropped his gaze with another grunt.

“We should get back,” he said abruptly.

And just like that, the spell was broken. He turned around, stepping out of the water and she looked away with a faint frown. She had never known a man who would deny himself a good time with a woman when he so obviously wanted it.

He cleared his throat and she realized he was standing at the edge of the water, holding his cape out. This time, he didn't look away when she came out of the water and he wrapped the heavy cape around her body. Once she was dry, she slipped back into her dress and gave one last glance over her shoulder before leaving the cave.

The cold wind was a harsh return to reality and she shivered, wrapping her arms around herself. Geralt strode confidently through the dark forest and she followed behind him, suppressing a yawn.

When they reached the camp, Jaskier was still sleeping in the same position, mouth agape, eyebrows slightly raised. She smiled and picked up her blanket, but Geralt gently took it from her.

“Stay with me.”

He sat down and pulled her against him. She settled between his legs with her head nestled against his solid chest, and she sighed with contentment when he laid the blanket over her. They probably had a few hours left before dawn so she relaxed into his arms and let the warmth slowly lull her to sleep.

*

“I like it here,” Bry broke the silence.

They had been walking for hours and barely exchanged a few words since she had climbed onto Roach. The only response she got was a grunt from Geralt and she took a deep breath, closing her eyes. The air smelled of fresh pine and earth and she could feel the sunshine filtering through the trees, warming up her skin. Her body moved in rhythm with the sound of the horse's hooves on the short grass and she opened her eyes to throw a furtive glance over her shoulder. Jaskier was dragging his feet, drops of sweat on his forehead, the lute bouncing against his back.

“Are you ok?” she asked quietly.

He nodded with a smile that looked more like a grimace but he didn't say anything. She pursed her lips before turning around, shifting in the saddle. Geralt was striding beside Roach, an unreadable expression on his face and she held onto the pommel of the saddle, leaning slightly toward him.

“Geralt?”

His gaze shifted to her and his expression softened.

“Yes, darling?”

“What's wrong with him?”

She didn't know his friend well but—considering how talkative he had been the day before—she could sense something was bothering him. _Maybe she had done something_. A lazy half-smile stretched Geralt's lips.

“He's not allowed to talk,” he explained. “For a whole day.”

“Oh.” She glanced over her shoulder again, giving him a sympathetic look. “What did he do?”

“He owes me.”

Geralt grabbed the horse's reins and stopped in his tracks.

“Down here.” He pointed toward the trees. “A river.”

Jaskier let out a loud sigh of relief and they left the main path to make their way through the trees. Bry dismounted swiftly as they arrived at the creek and Jaskier crouched at the water's edge, filling up his empty bottle.

“I'll walk from now on.” Bry approached a fallen tree, brushing off an area for her to sit. “Jaskier can ride Roach.”

Jaskier's eyes immediately drifted to Geralt and a smile slowly spread across his face. She felt a strange tension fill the air and her eyes bounced between the two men, not sure if she had said something wrong.

“Geralt?” she insisted.

He was staring at Jaskier, slowly grinding his teeth together. 

“Of course, he can,” he finally said, jaw clenched.

She smiled, lacing her boots tight and next to her, Jaskier's face beamed with satisfaction.

“But don't get too comfortable.”

*

The sun was about to disappear behind the horizon when they finally reached the town. Jaskier collapsed on the tavern steps, placing the lute next to him and Bry waited next to him, watching Geralt hitch Roach across the road. She looked up at the darkening sky.

“The sun is setting,” she noted, looking sideways at Jaskier who was resting his head in his hand.

He nodded until he realized what it meant and he got up, slowly raising his hands, pointing at the last ray of sunshine hitting the roof above them.

“Oh… _OH_.” He let out a throaty laugh and spun around, looking at Geralt across the road. “Finally, the end of the day, Geralt! Challenge _successfully_ met!”

He sighed loudly and leaned against the wall, with a seemingly pensive gaze.

“I must admit, it was—” He sighed again, looking at Geralt with a nod. “It was torture. I'm quite proud of myself actually.”

“It was _good_.” Geralt stopped next to Bry and nodded toward the building across the road. “The inn is over there.”

Bry got up but Jaskier pushed away from the wall, quickly stepping in front of Geralt.

“Just a moment, Geralt. I don't know if any of you have noticed but—” He turned around and pointed at the door. “It's a tavern, right here. Let's celebrate.”

“No.”

“One mead, Geralt. _One_ ,” he insisted.

Geralt shook his head but before he could reply, Jaskier was already turning around, smiling at Bry.

“Seeing that my opinion doesn't carry much weight, how about… _Bry's_?” His nose crinkled. “Surely you wouldn't want to upset her.”

She raised her eyebrows, glancing at Geralt but his gaze had already drifted to her. _He was letting her choose._

“ _Oh_.” She shrugged her shoulders with a hesitant smile before glancing at Jaskier. “I guess, one drink wouldn't hurt.”

“The voice of reason, Geralt. _The voice of reason_!”

Geralt sighed with the hint of a smile and gestured toward the tavern.

“Fine.”

Grinning from ear to ear, Jaskier opened the door and paused as if he was returning back home after a long journey and she entered last, throwing a quick glance around her.

As soon as they stepped into the tavern, the noises abruptly stopped—music faltering, loud voices turning to whispers—and Bry noticed the disapproving glances thrown at Geralt.

They sat at an empty table and the music started again as if nothing had happened, the backs turned, the voices grew loud again.

“ _One_ ,” Geralt reminded Jaskier. “And we leave.”

“Of course,” Jaskier nodded absently.

He got up from the table and stood there, seemingly waiting for something. Geralt fixed him with a hard stare before shoving his hand in his pocket. With a sigh, he dropped a few coins on the table and Jaskier immediately picked them up.

“Three meads coming right up, my friends!”

And three came. _Followed by many more._

Soon, Jaskier was standing with two strangers, singing popular songs for the whole tavern, their beers sloshing over. Bry was sitting next to Geralt, her head resting against his arm, waiting for the dizziness to fade. She wasn't used to the alcohol but it was nice being able to drink without worrying about anyone taking advantage of her.

Geralt downed his fourth drink and watched Jaskier stagger back to their table.

“They _love_ me,” he said, dropping onto the chair.

“So why don't you stay with them and leave us alone?” Geralt sighed.

“Oh, I _know_ you'd both miss me _dearly_ ,” he retorted.

She smiled absently as he continued talking and her mind quickly drifted away. _She needed to get up and walk, her legs felt like jelly._

After giving Geralt's arm a small squeeze, she quickly excused herself and walked up to the counter.

A group of travelers strode in, letting in a gush of cold air, and Bry leaned against the wooden counter, waiting for her turn. A few seconds later, a tall woman approached her, blond curls falling over her shoulders and her elbow brushed against Bry's.

_“Geralt?”_

Geralt's focus shifted back to Jaskier and he reluctantly turned his gaze away from Bry.

“What?”

Jaskier slouched in the chair and he shook his head with a chuckle.

“You just can't help it, can you?” He nodded toward Bry.

“Help _what_?”

Across the tavern, the woman laughed and pulled Bry's hand for a short dance. Behind them, the man picked up an empty cup and slammed it back down a few seconds later, the brown liquid spilling onto the counter.

“Looking at her,” Jaskier replied loudly. “The only time you take your eyes off her is when she's right next to you. You know she won't _actually_ disappear if you blink.”

Geralt sighed and finally looked away. _He couldn't help it._

“She's too trusting.”

Jaskier snorted before leaning closer to him.

“She hit me with a branch and tied me to a tree, Geralt. That's hardly ‘trusting’ to me.”

Geralt brought the cup to his lips and paused.

“That doesn't count,” he finally said.

“And why's that?”

“It's _you_.”

“And what is _that_ supposed to mean?”

Geralt's jaw clenched and he let out a long sigh as he had to state the obvious once again.

“Anybody here could overpower you. Women included.”

Offended, Jaskier opened his mouth to retort but let out a chuckle instead, shaking a finger at him.

“Fair enough.” He nodded with a grimace. “I see what you're doing here, Geralt, but I won't take offense.”

Geralt only grunted and took a large gulp of his drink. In all fairness, he would have had to drink a lot more to intensify the slight tingle in his brain. Not that he was desperately seeking the drunkenness, but it definitely made certain people around him less… irritating. Jaskier chose that moment to grab his lute and Geralt sighed, downing the rest of his drink.

His gaze returned to where Bry was last standing but she was gone. His whole body tensed and he got up, crossing the tavern with long strides. _He didn't even need to see her_. The smell emanating from the two dried lavender stems she was carrying in her pocket was enough.

Bry glanced at the cup that the woman was offering her but she politely refused.

“Thank you, but I think I've had enough for tonight.”

The woman tossed a long strand of blond hair over her shoulder and she chuckled, her laugh—soft and cold at the same time—froze the blood in her veins.

“Don't be silly, love. One more won't hurt,” she whispered, placing the cup in her hand.

As soon as Bry looked down at the drink, the sounds in the tavern seemed to die down as if she had plunged her head underwater. Tiny golden bubbles were rushing to the top of the cup, creating small ripples spreading out across the surface of the liquid. Slowly, her lips approached the rim of the cup, a sweet scent filling her nostrils.

In an instant, a hand snatched the drink from her grasp and jolted her out of the strange trance she was in. _Geralt_. 

He stepped in front of her and glared at the stranger, bringing the drink closer to his nose. His eyes seemed lighter than usual and the tension forming around him was palpable.

“Some people might fall for your lies,” he grunted, glancing around him. “But you don't have _me_ fooled.”

“ _Witcher_.” She took a lazy but confident step forward. “I've heard about you. I'll excuse your lack of manners this time.” She smiled and winked at Bry. “Only because I'm in such lovely company.”

She reached for her but Geralt gripped her wrist, his eyes narrowing.

“Leave.” He let go of her wrist with a look of disgust. “ _Now_.”

A wry smile twisted her mouth and she threw a sidelong glance at Bry before her gaze returned to him. 

“Very well.”

She took the glass from his hand and spun on her heels, dress rustling as she left. 

“What was in that drink?” Bry asked, wiping her hands on her dress.

When Geralt finally turned around, she didn't expect the look on his face and she almost took a step back.

“Are you _looking_ for trouble?” he snapped, pulling her aside.

“I'm sorry, I thought she was being nice, she—”

“There are _dangerous_ people, Bry," he cut her off impatiently. "You can't trust a stranger and take whatever they give you just because they seem _nice_. I don't know what business a sorceress would have with you, but you have to be careful. I think we need to establish some rules.”

“Rules?”

“Yes. Stay where I can see you. Don't follow strangers to a dark corner of a tavern without me knowing.”

Bry frowned, repeating the words in her head.

“So I should ask for your permission?”

“Yes.” His jaw clenched and he sighed. “ _No._ Not _permission_ , but you don't know this town. You can't trust someone simply because they tell you to.”

She nodded slowly, dropping her gaze. _Like she had trusted him…_

“Thank you for defending me, but you don't have to worry,” she reassured him. “I can defend myself if I have to. I'm not as weak as I look,” she added with a smile.

“You are.”

Once again, the words slipped out before he could stop them and he saw her eyebrows jerk in surprise before she turned around and walked away.

“Ouch.” Jaskier slowly walked up to Geralt, imitating his raspy voice. “ _I think we need to establish some rules, stay where I can see you_. I mean—” He let out a cackle that quickly turned into a cough. “I mean, it's very, uh… fatherly. Or, you know, _extremely_ controlling. I don't know which one she'd rather...”

He turned around absently and stared at Bry in the distance.

“Go away,” Geralt grunted, glaring at him.

Jaskier stepped closer.

“Listen, I know that you don't spend enough time around actual… _people_. But you've upset the girl, Geralt. Don't upset the girl.”

“She's not upset... She's drunk.”

“She's not drunk,” Jaskier retorted with a grimace before looking up at the ceiling as if he had just noticed something. “ _I'm_ drunk. The point is, and I _dare_ say, you're being a bit harsh.”

Geralt sighed and stayed silent for a few seconds before finally speaking. “ _Maybe_.”

Jaskier gasped in shock, theatrically cupping his hand to his ear.

“You're right, Jaskier, I hear you say. Well, yes.” He stretched his arms out with a smile. “Once again, I am. Wait—”

Geralt gave a grunt of disapproval when Jaskier grabbed his arm to stop him from walking away.

“Don't touch me.”

“All I'm saying is, you are _lucky_ , Geralt,” Jaskier explained, holding his hand up. “You found yourself a pretty lady who follows you around and is willing to put her own life in danger while you travel the Continent, slaying monsters. I wouldn't say no to that. Well—” He scrunched up his nose. “—preferably without the ‘monster-slaying’ part, but look—” Jaskier leaned against the wooden pillar, pointing at Bry across the tavern with a pitying gaze. “Look at her sad little face, sitting alone at the table. Come on, Geralt. Don't be so _cold_.”

Geralt sighed and snatched the drink out of his hand before walking back to the table, ignoring the gasp of protest behind him.

The tavern was busier, the music louder and Bry shifted in her chair. Her mind was foggy and she only had one wish left. _Sleep_.

“You seem tired.”

Geralt's voice made her heart jump and she realized he was standing in front of the table, one hand held out to her.

“I'm sorry if I offended you earlier,” he continued. “It wasn't my intention.”

“I know.” She nodded rapidly. “It's fine.”

To be honest, she wasn't even thinking about that anymore. _She was too tired to be upset._

“Can we rest soon?” 

He smiled at the eagerness in her voice and nodded.

“Yes. I think we all need it.”

She took his hand and got up, her gaze wandering around the tavern. “Where is Jaskier?”

Geralt looked over his shoulder but he was already gone. With an impatient sigh, he glanced around the tavern and his gaze lingered on the lute sitting in the corner.

“Well, he can't be far. Probably passed out under a table. Come.”

He headed toward the door but she hesitated.

“Shouldn't we look for him?”

“ _No_.”

He held the door open and she slipped out, wrapping her arms around herself.

“What if he gets into trouble?” she insisted.

The door shut behind her, muffling the noise of the tavern, and she looked around the empty street, taking a deep breath. The sky was dark, the stars were hidden behind a mass of clouds and she couldn't wait to finally lie in a warm bed. _With Geralt_.

“He's not a child anymore,” he replied with a sigh. “And we are not his parents.”

He crossed the road to get Roach but as he reached the other side, two hooded figures emerged from a dark alleyway, a dagger in their hands.

“Geralt?” She stood on the bottom step with a frown.

Of course, he had already spotted them but he stayed still, letting them come to him before he slowly unsheathed his sword in one fluid motion.

“Get back inside.”

After a small hesitation, she turned around and hurried up the steps. _It didn't make much sense_. Muggers would normally choose an easy target, certainly not a witcher.

She already had her hand on the door handle when she caught movement from the corner of her eye. Before she could react, a thick cloth was slammed over her mouth and she was yanked back with a muffled gasp. Blond curls brushed against her cheek as a soft voice whispered in her ear.

“Quiet now, one word and your friend with the pretty voice dies.”


	4. Chapter 4

Everything was peaceful. She was sleeping, a comforting yet unidentifiable sound echoing inside her head. Her heartbeats were slow, maybe too slow, and an eerie tingle ran down her back. She felt a string of drool falling from her lips but when she went to wipe her mouth, she realized something. _She wasn't asleep_. The thought hit her like a punch to the gut and she opened her eyes with a loud gasp. Her senses slowly came back to her, and she tried to get up, a sudden and sharp pain in her wrists. The crackling sound of a fire nearby made her blink a few times and she glanced down confusingly.

It was still dark and she was sitting on the forest floor, hands tied to a stake behind her.

_"Bry?"_

Her heart thumped in her chest and she twisted her head to see behind her.

"Jaskier!" 

She slowly became aware of her surroundings and realized they were tied to the same stake, facing away from each other.

"Thank the gods, you're awake," Jaskier's worried voice continued behind her. "We are in deep trouble."

"Are you hurt?" 

"No. Not yet," he whispered. "But he could be back any minute… Just… _please_ , tell me you have a plan," he added after a few seconds of silence. "I'm not good at getting myself out of trouble if I must say. Geralt is usually the one who, you know, sort of… _handles_ these situations."

She had just come to and she could barely keep up with what Jaskier was saying. She tried to wriggle free, straining against the rope until she felt like her bones were going to snap and her skin tear.

" _He_? Who is _he_?"

"Some big, scary… brute. He's with that witch from the tavern."

 _Her…_ Bry clenched her jaw, twisting her wrists against the rough rope. _It had to be about Geralt._

"Do you have anything sharp?" she asked desperately. 

"I have a knife in my pants," Jaskier replied flatly.

She stopped struggling and frowned, glancing behind her.

" _Really_?"

Jaskier remained silent for a second before realizing what he had just said and he gasped loudly.

"I have a knife in my pants! Wait, if I just—" He quickly shifted and pushed his back against the stake until he felt her fingers brush his lower back. "There is a double seam at the back, you should be able to grab it. It's on my left—no, my right. Just get in there, Bry," he added.

"Wait—" she grimaced, struggling to slip a few desperate fingers into his pants.

She moved them around but couldn't feel anything, except Jaskier's warm skin.

"Too _low_ , Bry."

"Oh... _Oh_. _Sorry_. Got it. I've got it."

Her fingers closed around a small handle and she pulled out the knife.

"Brilliant. And don't worry I won't mention to Geralt that you just touched my bare bottom."

"Unnecessary detail, indeed." She held tightly onto the knife and started rubbing the blade against the rope. "Why haven't they searched you?"

"Well, look at me. I must look so clueless, they didn't even bother." He grimaced. "He said it would be our last night. I'm not ready to die, Bry. I'm not—"

"We're not dying tonight," she interrupted him.

 _But what did she know?_ She didn't want to die either but they were powerless against a witch. _And where was Geralt now?_

"We must escape," Jaskier said, his head lolling back against the stake. "You know, we wouldn't be in this predicament if it wasn't for Geralt—" He turned his head toward her and sighed. "It's all because of him."

"We don't know that for sure…"

"So, now… if we die, or at least one of us…" Jaskier shook his head, gazing into space. "I'm afraid the guilt will eat him away. He won't recover."

Bry blinked a few times before turning her head toward him, cheek pressed against the stake.

"Are you still drunk?"

"Yes," he replied flatly. "And on the verge of panicking." 

The rope around her wrists snapped and she immediately turned around to cut his rope but she froze when she heard some rustling behind them.

"Run. _Go_ ," Jaskier whispered.

For a split second, she glanced at the dark forest around her but darted toward the closest tree instead, near the fire. _She couldn't leave Jaskier behind_. Without thinking too much, she hid behind the large trunk and started climbing up as quietly as possible. She didn't have many strong points but climbing trees was definitely one of them. Better a living coward than a dead hero—her uncle used to say something along those lines—so she had learned to hide in trees from monsters and men since she was a child.

As she hoisted herself quietly onto a higher branch, she glanced down. A man had emerged from the bushes, the glow of the fire reflecting off his armor.

"Where's the girl?!"

That's when Bry realized with horror that she had kept the knife in her hands, taking away any opportunity Jaskier had to free himself.

"She ran away," Jaskier's weak voice resonated below.

"And left you here?"

The man barked a laugh and Bry kept her eyes down, balancing on the thick branch. _She was nearly right above them…_

"She's hardly a friend, you know," Jaskier retorted.

"Is that right? Well, it doesn't matter anyway," the man chuckled. "I wanted to start with her, but I guess I'll start with _you_." He let out a snort and turned toward the darkness. "RUN, LITTLE GIRL, RUN! Things are only sweeter when you have to hunt them."

Bry closed her eyes and took a quiet breath before moving slightly forward. She could feel the rough bark tearing her dress, scratching her knees. The man chuckled again and turned to Jaskier, pointing the tip of his sword toward him.

"Anything else you wanna say, bard? Or shall I ask for one last _song_?" he sneered.

"At least, tell me why—what did I do?"

The man grunted and took a step closer. _He was now standing exactly where she had prayed he would._ Bry put the handle of the knife between her teeth and straddled the branch before lying flat on her stomach.

"Well, it's the Witcher she's interested in. I'm afraid you're only a pawn in her game. Now we never promised to keep you alive," he chuckled. "She knows how your death would anger him."

Bry slowly slid to the side, feeling the bark scratching her arms, her belly, her legs. But she ignored the pain. _If he looked up now, they would be both dead._

"So you want to make the Witcher… _mad_?" Jaskier spoke up, resisting the urge to glance up above the man's head. "You must have a death wish."

Bry dangled from the tree, the knife still secured in her mouth and glanced below one last time, heart pounding in her ears.

"Your Witcher is weaker than a witch. She'll toy with him as she pleases," the man spat.

And that's when Bry let go. She landed on the man's back—surprised that her weight didn't knock him to the floor—and instinctively locked her legs around him. 

Confused, he snarled and tried to push her off but she thrust the blade in the side of his neck. Before she lost her balance and fell on the floor, she stabbed him another time, blood pouring all over her hands. The man fell to his knees with a gurgling noise and she landed painfully on the forest floor. She quickly scrambled away from him, breath catching in her throat.

"Good heavens... Are you okay, Bry?!" Jaskier exclaimed, still tied to the tree. "That was—"

Adrenaline still pumping through her veins, eyes wide, she staggered toward him and crouched without a word. Her hands shaking uncontrollably, she struggled to cut the rope.

 _She had just killed a man_.

She could feel a trail of blood trickling down her forearms, dead leaves and dirt sticking to her palms. 

"That was gruesome," Jaskier whispered, twisting his wrists to loosen the ties.

The rope finally snapped and she stood back up and glanced at the dead man. Jaskier got to his feet and took Bry's hand in a tight grip, pulling her forward. But her feet stayed glued to the floor, and she stared down at the dark blood staining the ground, the leaves, the metallic smell floating all around them.

" _Bry_." Jaskier held her shoulders and forced her to look at him. "Don't look at him. We have to go now."

But before they could go anywhere, a cold laugh echoed around them and Bry felt the hair on her arms rise. A sudden and powerful force knocked the wind out of her, sending her flying back against a tree.

As she was rolling on her stomach, she heard Jaskier's voice turn into a grunt of pain and she used the last bit of her strength to push herself off the ground.

The woman from the tavern was watching her, a peaceful smile on her face, her gaze sharp and unforgiving. 

"It seems like I underestimated you two." She glanced to the left where Jaskier was on the ground, his forehead beaded with sweat. "but I shouldn't be surprised. That's what happens with vermin."

She stepped closer, savoring the fear slowly spreading through Bry's veins.

"They _always_ find a way to crawl out alive. Well," she paused and her gaze returned to her. "At least they _try_."

Bry swallowed hard. _She was going to kill her first after all_. She heard Jaskier's pained voice but she was unable to take her eyes off of the woman.

"I can't move," he said.

 _She couldn't move either_. There was nothing she could do but watch the woman approach until she was only one step away from her.

"So, tell me." She took the last step and reached for a strand of hair hanging in front of Bry's eyes. "How—"

She was interrupted by a strange popping sound and a cloud of shiny smoke surrounded them. There was an angry scream and Bry instinctively covered her ears. Suddenly she was able to move again and she started staggering away blindly, head bowed down… until she bumped into a chest.

"Geralt?"

But it wasn't him. The man looked down into her eyes with a hard stare, his gaze dropping to her bloody hands and she glanced at the ugly scar across his beard, pink hairless skin disappearing under his chin. He breathed loudly and his gaze finally left her face.

She stayed completely still, holding her breath until he stepped away from her and she leaned against the tree trunk, heart pounding. The man she had just killed was imposing but he was nothing compared to the one who had just been standing in front of her. Suddenly the stomping and grunting of horses echoed around her and a few men in heavy armor appeared.

The sorceress was on the floor, wrists shackled together, shouting curses and obscenities at the men surrounding her. One man picked her up and threw her carelessly on the back of a horse.

_"Shut your filthy unholy mouth, witch."_

Bry was staring at the scene, frozen to the spot, unsure if she could allow herself to feel the relief spreading through her. The men exchanged a few enthusiastic words but she was barely listening, too stunned by what was unfolding.

"Let's move!" The man gave a sharp whistle before settling back into his saddle.

The horses neighed and snorted nervously before disappearing into the darkness. The man held the reins for a second longer, gaze drifting from the dead man on the floor to Bry.

"Glory be to the fire."

He clicked his tongue and rode forward, disappearing between the trees.

As the sound of pounding hooves faded away, Jaskier walked out of his hiding spot, his gaze darting frantically around him.

"What just happened? Are we still alive?" He patted his chest as if to convince himself that he was indeed alive before leaning forward, his hands on his knees.

"Who was that?" he asked before collapsing on the floor with relief. "I can't feel my legs."

Bry was still standing next to the tree, staring at the blood on the floor.

"Witch hunters," she finally whispered.

Jaskier arched his eyebrows, turning slightly toward her.

" _Witch hunters_? How lucky was that?!"

A fly landed on her forearm moving down to the sticky blood and she frowned, gazing up at Jaskier.

"We should leave."

He raised an eyebrow and quickly got up while she chased the fly away.

"I don't think it's a good idea, Bry."

"We have to go," she continued.

She felt Jaskier's coat on her shoulders and he gestured toward the fire.

"You're cold, let's sit. _And_ , we don't know where we are," he added rapidly before she could object. "If we leave, we'll only get lost. If we stay here, Geralt will find us. _He will_."

She nodded without a word. He was right, they couldn't afford to get lost in a forest in the middle of the night. 

She sat on the floor and rubbed her hands on her lap. She was filthy. The blood on her dress and her skin had dried and the smell of blood was starting to make her nauseous.

"Thank you, Bryonia," Jaskier spoke again, his voice unusually serious. "You didn't have to save me but you did anyway. That was brave."

She forced a smile, staring into the fire.

"I only got away thanks to your knife," she reminded him.

"That you can gladly keep, by the way."

She nodded and he lied on his back with a long sigh before continuing.

"Where do you think Geralt is right now? He's taking his sweet time, I'm not impressed."

Her stomach tightened and she looked at the dark silhouettes of the trees around them.

"What if something happened to him?"

"I'm sure he'll be here in no time," Jaskier reassured her.

She wiped her sticky forehead and, still paying attention to the night sounds, she nodded toward the dead body.

"Well, I hope he comes before anything else."

" _Anything else_?"

Jaskier propped himself up on his elbow and followed her gaze. His eyes widened when he realized that all the blood would definitely attract some animals... or worse. 

She quickly crawled to the man to pick up the sword lying next to him and threw it to Jaskier. She rolled him over and unsheathed a dagger that she kept for herself.

Jaskier looked around nervously and Bry sat next to him, on full alert.

"We're okay."

*

 _They should have never even entered the tavern._ He had been too nice in order to please her and now she had been taken away from him, along with Jaskier, and it had all happened right under his nose.

Hanging upside down, Geralt swung his sword with a snarl, taking out the last wolf before cutting the rope that was tangled around his ankle. He fell to the forest floor with a grunt and whistled loudly as he got to his feet.

He had fallen into the trap like a novice and whatever time the sorceress was trying to buy, he had just given it to her. 

He sheathed his sword on his back and climbed on his horse, leaving the dead wolves behind.

_They were in this forest, he knew that. And he would search every corner of it until he found them._

After going up a small hill, he smelled it. The smell of blood and death.

" _Fuck_." He tightened his grip on the reins. "Come on, Roach."

He saw the faint glow of a fire between the trees and, before the horse had even fully stopped, Geralt was already off his back. He pulled his sword out angrily and strode toward the fire, glancing at the dead man on the floor.

_"You're late, witcher."_

The voice stopped Geralt in his tracks and he dropped his gaze, hiding the relief that was spreading through his chest.

Jaskier came out of the bushes first, followed by Bry.

"Did you go on some sort of side quest before you decided to come and save us? Hmm?" Jaskier continued.

"She lured me into a trap," Geralt grunted. "What happened here?"

He noticed the blood on Bry and quickly closed the distance between them, grasping both her shoulders to examine her.

"Are you hurt?"

"No. It's not mine."

Jaskier sighed loudly, resting his hands on his hips.

"And how are you Jaskier, I hear you ask. I'm terrific, you'll be relieved to know. And this, my friend, this is all thanks to the incredible Bryonia of—" He paused and narrowed his eyes. "Wait, where are you from? We've never discussed that. Never mind."

He put an arm around Geralt's shoulder before continuing.

"Let me regale you with this nightly adventure of ours." He pointed at the stake they had previously been tied to. "So here we were, tied up to this horrendous stake, ready to be sacrificed, in _your_ name, by the way. But Bry, here, managed to cut her rope and set herself free. And then, listen carefully, _then_ she climbed up the tree, Geralt, _oh_ , she climbed it fast like a... like a…" He paused and looked at her. "What animal am I looking for? A bear? No."

There were a few seconds of silence.

"A cat?" Bry suggested tentatively.

Jaskier grimaced, tilting his head to the side.

"I can't compare you to a cat in the song that'll make you famous, Bry."

"A _panther_ ," Geralt sighed.

"Yes! Good thinking, Geralt. Anyway, she climbed up the tree, stalking her prey like a _panther_ and then, as I was about to pronounce my last words, _bam_!" He clapped his hands once. "She pounced."

"She pounced," Geralt repeated blankly.

" _Yes_." Jaskier pointed up at the branch she had been standing on. "She landed right on his back, he didn't stand a chance, poor devil. Got him twice in the throat. Blood everywhere. It was epic. The end."

Geralt looked up at the tree and back down.

"While you were safely waiting for her to rescue you?" he asked.

"It's called teamwork, Geralt. Although I wouldn't expect you to be familiar with the word."

"Where is the sorceress?" Geralt asked, ignoring what Jaskier had just said.

"Some witch hunters came out of nowhere and took her."

Geralt frowned and turned around.

" _Witch hunters_? Did they see you?"

"Yes," Bry confirmed with a nod. "They didn't say anything to us. They just took her and left. Their timing was strangely perfect."

Suddenly in deep thought, Geralt grunted and his gaze slowly drifted away. Jaskier approached Roach with a contented smile and opened the saddlebag.

"Have you got any water in there?"

Geralt finally forced his thoughts aside and looked down at Bry. 

"Are you okay?"

She nodded rapidly but avoided his gaze.

"Yes, I just—I feel… dirty. All that blood, it's everywhere," she whispered. "And look at my dress, it's ruined—"

"Hey. You were brave." Geralt took her hands in his and leaned forward. "You're going to have a bath and we'll buy you new clothes tomorrow."

But it wasn't really the dirt, nor her dress, and Geralt knew that. But he wouldn't ask the question now, not like this. 

Bry nodded and looked at him. He was standing still, his head slightly turned to the side as if he could hear something.

"One minute," he finally said.

He walked away and disappeared behind the trees while Jaskier stepped closer to her and handed her the bottle of water. She took a large gulp, suddenly realizing how thirsty she was. Her legs had finally stopped shaking and she had only one wish left. _Sleep_. 

"You know," Jaskier spoke up, turning toward where Geralt had disappeared. "I couldn't help but notice that we are missing something rather important."

Geralt reappeared from behind the trees, leading a white horse.

"And what is that?"

"My lute, evidently. It was left in the tavern."

"And?" Geralt raised an eyebrow.

"You might not know this, but it is an expensive lute."

Geralt shoved the reins in Jaskier's hands.

"Not my responsibility."

Jaskier sighed and mumbled something under his breath before turning toward the horse. "Is this my horse?"

His gaze drifted from the horse to the man on the floor.

"What if it belonged to the sorceress?" he continued hesitantly.

"It's just a horse," Geralt retorted impatiently. "It doesn't have magical powers."

"Are you absolutely sure about that?"

Bry smiled and she leaned against Roach, rubbing his neck. Geralt mounted swiftly and held his hand out to lift her up.

Once she was settled in front of him, she let herself sink against his chest and closed her eyes. Feeling finally safe, she could almost forget what had happened that night, at least for a little while.

Geralt took the reins, his arms tight around her before glancing at Jaskier.

"Let me know if you notice anything."

Jaskier raised his eyebrows. "Excuse me?"

Geralt nodded toward him.

"The horse," he replied dryly. "If you notice strange behavior. We never know."

"What? What do you mean? _Geralt_? Wait—"

Geralt clicked his tongue and rode off before Jaskier could finish his sentence.

"Not nice." Bry shook her head, her eyes still shut, a faint smile on her lips.

Geralt chuckled as Jaskier's offended voice was still echoing through the forest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stay safe, lovelies <3


End file.
